


Cooking Lessons - Ukyō

by CynicalDaydream



Series: Domino Effect [4]
Category: Brothers Conflict
Genre: F/M, Food Play, Oral, Sex, psuedo-incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24452293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalDaydream/pseuds/CynicalDaydream
Summary: It’s been awhile since the Rooftop Incident, and so far nobody has broached the subject. You think you might be content to leave it like that, but it seems Ukyō has other ideas.
Relationships: Asahina Ukyō/Reader
Series: Domino Effect [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730305
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63





	Cooking Lessons - Ukyō

There’s no doubt about it; Ukyō is avoiding you.

You think. Maybe.

Honestly, you aren’t quite _sure_. Ever since the Roof Incident, you can’t help feeling like things have changed between you somehow. Well, after all, he _did_ catch you having hot sex with Fuuto and given how hard he’d gotten himself off while watching his two younger siblings going at it like rabbits, it didn’t seem to bother him at the time... But it would be weird if things _didn’t_ change after that, right?

You can’t quite put your finger on what’s different, though. You think you see him as much as usual when you help with laundry or to prepare meals when he’s busy preparing for a trial. Perhaps it’s because you don’t seem to … talk as much as you once did. Well, you’re a bit glad about that, though, because you honestly have no idea what to say to him and you’d really rather avoid a particular topic altogether, if at all possible. Pretending it never happened is probably not the _healthiest_ coping mechanism you possess, but it’s all you’ve got at the moment.

Maybe it’s the looks he sometimes gives you that keep throwing you off. You catch him from time to time, simply _staring_ at you. And his eyes look so … _desperate_ that it makes you shiver and your insides clench in a way that’s becoming distressingly familiar… Hikaru and Fuuto have both looked at you with eyes like those. Carnal. _Hungry_. Like they want to eat you alive. Like they want to ravish you into a coma.

And given how the both of them have been absent for some time now—Fuuto gone off on another tour and Hikaru jet setting in Germany and France for more book research—you can’t help missing their presence. Can’t help missing their … _attentions_.

Is it possible, you wonder, that you’re becoming addicted to them? Or just addicted to sex? Of which you’ve had none since both of your partners had left. But, you have the feeling there would be at least one willing brother to help you out with that, if you could only screw up enough courage to _ask_.

Who are you kidding, you’ll never ask. And just because Ukyō masturbated in front of you doesn’t mean he’d be willing to actually _fuck_ you. You’re his sister, after all. It was probably like watching porn or something. Who wouldn’t be turned on by such an erotic display right in front of them? You’d certainly been turned on by _his_.

You sprawl across your bed, propped up by your pillows with legs spread wide and eyes closed as you picture your elder brother as you’d seen him on the roof that day. Opened pants and hand fisting his thick cock, pumping himself, caught in the throes of passion as his hungry eyes bore into yours… Your hips gyrate slowly against your thrusting fingers as you seek relief from the dull, endless ache between your legs.

You imagine Hikaru in his silk stockings and sexy garter belt slowly sliding into you, cock thick and hard, filling and rubbing you in all the right ways.

Picture Fuuto’s full, soft lips surrounding your nipple as he sucks and bites…

And all the while, Ukyō watches you being taken by both of your brothers and groans and thrusts into his own hand as cum slides down his slick cock and—

—your phone abruptly chirps, _loudly_ , instantly shatters the ephemeral illusion like glass and you voice a muffled shriek of frustration into your pillow. You snatch up the phone and glare at the display, wondering who in the world is messaging you at ten-thirty at night.

Your ire falters when you see it’s a message from Ukyō—speak of the devil—and his request is a strange one, indeed. Simple and to the point: come down to the kitchen. He has some new recipes to try and greatly desires a second opinion. Namely, yours.

Your breath catches. Something seems … strange. Is it possible you sense a trap? Or are you just being ridiculous? More importantly, do you _want_ it to be a trap? Maybe it depends on what kind. Is he using this excuse to finally get you alone and confront you about the Rooftop Incident once and for all? This time of night, there’s not a particularly large chance of anyone else being awake and you’re fairly certain that anyone who would be is out on their usual business, anyway, from what you’d seen on the chart today.

So, basically, it’s just you and Ukyō.

You ponder for long, agonizing moments, knowing that if you don’t go down, Ukyō will either assume you’re already asleep or possibly take your absence as a sign of rejection. But if you don’t go down, you’ll always _wonder_. And chances are you won’t be able to sleep tonight anyway because you are way too curious for your own good. And the last thing you want to do is inadvertently hurt Ukyō’s feelings… 

Besides, you’re still ridiculously worked up and if there’s a chance your brother might be able to help you relieve your frustration, well… 

With a sigh, you get up and pull a robe on over your sleeping shorts and tank top. After a moment’s consideration, you pull your skimpy pajamas off completely and slip the robe back on over your naked body. "In for a penny, in for a pound" as that Western saying goes… 

* * *

The common area is dark when you step out of the elevator, minus the dimmed illumination of track lights that line the ceiling of the common area and a brighter light from the kitchen. You pad down the stairs toward it. “U-Ukyō-San?” you call softly, nervously.

“I’m here,” comes the equally soft reply and you glimpse him through the serving window, distractedly note that he looks different somehow… And as soon as you step into the kitchen you realize why.

Ukyō is wearing an apron.

Ukyō is wearing ... _only_ an apron.

And all you can think (a bit hysterically) is at least it’s a plain brown apron and not something covered with frills or cutesy pictures or slogans like Kiss the Cook, because otherwise you might’ve been tempted to giggle.

(Or maybe actually kiss him; the jury is out on that one.)

(Heh heh. Jury…)

You stop in your tracks the moment you see him and you’re embarrassed to admit that you might’ve just squeaked a little. Because he’s _looking_ at you again. That ravenous, burning look through hooded eyes that rake over your body and—Okay, maybe you could have tied that robe a _little_ tighter around your waist, but it’s a bit late to chicken out _now_. “I … um … I got your text,” you manage to squeak.

His eyes brighten a bit and a soft smile touches his lips. “I’m glad you could join me,” he replies and good _grief_ you’ve never heard _that_ tone come out of him before, all deep and husky and wanting… It sends a bolt of heat right through you and you unconsciously squeeze your thighs together.

“S-so, um, something about recipes…?”

“Ah, yes. Give me a moment.” He brushes past you and you’re ninety-percent certain he leans closer to inhale as he passes (you may or may not have dabbed a tiny bit of your favorite perfume behind each ear before leaving your room; a Christmas present from Hikaru, come to think of it…).

You bite your lip and dare to peek and—Yep, Ukyō is _definitely_ naked under that apron. The long, smooth length of his back melts into the firm globes of his perfect ass, the line only broken by the apron strings tied loosely at his waist. He’s lithely muscled. Not as slender as Hikaru and Fuuto but not as built as Subaru and Natsume. You’d think sitting in an office or courtroom all day would make him a little soft. Then again, you suppose all the housekeeping he does, coupled with lugging heavy baskets of wet laundry up and down flights of steps, probably goes a long way in helping him stay fit.

Hmm. Maybe you should try adding laundry-lugging to your workout routine… 

A trace of his aftershave tickles your nose, something deep and woodsy and _expensive_ and you inhale, trying to catch another whiff as the heat in your belly kicks up another notch.

Really, how are all of your stepbrothers so drop-dead _gorgeous_? Good genes, _indeed_. You’re only human! How are your poor, teenaged hormones expected to withstand such an unceasing assault to your senses? It’s hardly fair!

The sound of a lighting match catches your attention and you timidly leave the kitchen to see what your brother is up to. You find him at the large dining table, in the midst of lighting several candles at one end to cast more ambiance over… You squint, wondering if your eyes are playing tricks; is that a tablecloth spread across the other end? No, it’s thicker than that… A blanket? Or several…

What is this man planning? You’re torn between being curious and being tempted to turn around and flee back to the safety of your room.

Curiosity wins out, of course. Perhaps you were a cat in a former life (which, if so, might explain how you _died_ …)

His trusty tea cart is there and it’s also laden with … stuff. Several small pots, a few kitchen implements… What looks like a small gas lamp turned onto a low simmer, like the kind used at buffet spreads to keep food hot. A small pot sits over the low flame and the most delicious sweet smell permeates the air… 

“Chocolate?”

He looks up, glasses flashing briefly in the candlelight. You really wish you could see his eyes right now, shadowed as they are behind the lenses… 

“White chocolate, in fact,” he replies. “I’ve never tried making it before. I thought a chocolate fondue might be good but I need another taste-tester.”

“And you decided on me.” Your tone sounds just a little suspicious.

He offers a small smile in response. “Of course. Aside from myself, you’re the only one I would trust anywhere _near_ my kitchen. Your cooking is impeccable so it stands to reason your tastes would be, too.”

His reasoning feels … a little flawed, but you’re certainly flattered by his compliments. It’s nice to be appreciated. Still, you’re intelligent enough to recognize a seduction when you’re being hit with one, thanks to Hikaru’s lessons. You wonder if you should let Ukyō continue his or just call him on it. You’re not particularly hungry for food, this late at night, no matter how good it smells. But _Ukyō_ is looking rather delectable with the candlelight gleaming off all that pale, bare skin… 

You approach the cart to get a better look at its contents. Aside from the chocolate, there’s a bowl of what looks like mixed berries. Another of … marshmallows? That draws a small smile from your lips; when was the last time you’d eaten marshmallows? A pot of sauce sits beside the burner. It glistens dark red in the candlelight. “Raspberry sauce,” Ukyō says in answer to your questioning glance. “I thought it would make a good contrast to the chocolate.” He gestures to another pot sitting on the other side of the burner. “And this is mint sauce.”

You nod, then pick up a fondue fork, stab a large blueberry and dip it into the chocolate. You savor a bite, eyes closed, then nod. “This is really good. You made this? From scratch?”

He looks inexplicably pleased; Ukyō always likes to receive compliments on his cooking, probably because he rarely ever gets them from his brothers. “A colleague told me about this recipe so I looked it up. It was a little complicated but it seems to have turned out well. It would be a good addition to meals for special occasions. A special dessert for birthdays or holidays or such.”

You savor another berry for a moment, then screw up the courage to ask, “Ukyō-san, are … are we ever going to talk about it?” He freezes in the midst of biting into a strawberry; probably wasn’t expecting you to open _that_ particular can of worms. That’s okay. You’re rather surprised by it, yourself.

Well, you’d started it. Better keep going before you lose your nerve. “I’m not angry, you know,” you press on. “And I’m not sorry it happened. Just in case you were worried over it. Please don’t be.” You pluck another blueberry from the bowl, hold it out like a peace-offering and do your best to look him in the eye. And he doesn’t pretend to not know what you’re talking about, merely leans in to delicately nip the berry from your hand. His lips brush, warm and soft, over your fingertips and the smell of his cologne surrounds your senses in a heady wash. And he must see something in _your_ eyes because he leans further in and his lips seek and find yours and it’s the softest kiss you could have ever imagined, flavored with fruit and chocolate.

He draws back after a long moment and you can see the flush in his cheeks. You wonder if yours look just as red as his hands come up to cradle them. He starts to lean in again, close enough so you can feel his breath ghosting over your lips, before he pauses to ask (and there’s that _voice_ again, all husky and soft), “May l?”

As if he needs to _ask_ at this point, but you’re touched by his consideration. So you smile and lift your face to his and he meets you halfway, one arm slips around your waist as his hand cups your hot cheek and his lips ply yours with soft kisses that grow increasingly deeper and warmer. His tongue seeks entrance and you gladly grant it, tangling together with heated, panting breaths and soft little whimpers of pleasure.

You’re not sure what to do with your hands so settle for hooking them into the top of his apron, but it isn’t long before they’re sliding up and over smooth, hot skin, glide across his strong collarbones to settle around his neck and he pulls you even closer as he backs you up until you hit the edge of the table. And now you realize that the blanket actually _is_ a tablecloth—the fancy one he always pulls out at Christmas—but there’s something under it, some sort of padding (a futon?) and as he presses you down into it to continue to kiss you, you’re _really_ glad you answered his text after he’d gone to so much trouble… 

His mouth slides from yours, allowing you to breathe, finds your neck and kisses over your racing pulse, traces your collarbone, follows the path of his wandering hands as they trail delicately over your skin, slip beneath your robe to part it. A soft gasp escapes when he realizes you’re just as naked as _he_ is underneath. He parts it further, exposing your breasts in a slow reveal, kiss-swollen lips parted as he breathes deeply and unsteadily. He’s removed his glasses, you suddenly realize, and you hadn’t even seen him take them off. He looks like himself yet … different. Sexy and unhinged. And his eyes almost burn as they rake over your skin and then, in a surprising move, he’s off of you and turning away to fiddle with something on the cart. A small remote.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs is that low, visceral growl. “I’m sorry, the candlelight is more romantic but … I _need_ to see you.” And the lights hanging over the table turn on and brighten slowly until you feel like you’re laying in your very own spotlight.

It’s probably not as bright as all that, of course, but after the dimness of the candles, it’s nearly blinding. You lay blinking spots from your eyes, feeling very _exposed_ , before his shadow suddenly looms over you and his mouth finds yours again for another deep kiss. He murmurs against your skin as his lips trace your body, words that sound like endearments. Words like “precious” and “lovely” and “divine”.

He nuzzles between your breasts, presses a soft kiss to the left one and your heart kicks into overdrive as silky hair tickles your nipples into hard, tingling points. He notices, of course, and a smile touches his lips as he presses one with a fingertip. “You seemed to greatly enjoy Fuuto’s attentions to these,” he teases softly, chuckling when you blush. He plucks the pot of raspberry sauce from the cart and a large—You squint—paintbrush?

No, it’s a _basting_ brush, which he dips into the sauce and holds over your stomach, lets a thin stream drizzle across your skin before bringing it to your breasts to stroke teasingly over the soft globes, circling your nipples with a delightful ticklish sensation. Your breath catches with anticipation as his mouth slowly follows the trail of the brush, sips the sauce from your skin, lips warm and soft as they ghost over your flesh. His tongue teases and traces, laps up the sticky trail and circles your areolae as you whimper with delight. Then he gathers your breasts, pushes them close together and soft lips seal to your nipples to suck them both clean at once.

He’s _very_ thorough and by the time he sucks every last trace, you’re panting his name over and over as your desire spikes ever higher. It’s just as well you’re not wearing panties under your robe. They’d probably be soaked through by now. He leans away and the very obvious tenting of his apron gives testament to his own arousal. The heavy cloth drapes his erection like a sheet on a clothesline, but he ignores his need as he bastes your body again. This time the mint sauce paints a thick line between your breasts, down your shivering belly and between your parted thighs. He teases your entrance with the baster, dips into your folds to tease your clit before setting the brush aside to bury his mouth against your skin.

You squirm and whimper as he sucks you clean, hands caressing up and down your sides and legs before pushing them further apart, spreading you wide as his lidded, hungry eyes meet yours and he buries his face between your thighs. You can’t hold back the sharp cry when his tongue sinks into your folds, lapping and sucking and your hips thrust under his ministrations. He keeps you locked in his gaze as he slowly and methodically ravishes your pussy with his mouth. Finds your clitorus and sucks it _hard_ , and it isn’t long before the orgasm sweeps over you, sending you tumbling into blinding ecstasy.

He holds you down and continues to suck until your straining body finally collapses into a limp, sated heap. A few final, soft sucks to your clit and then he leans back, your release glistening on his chin. “A most delicious success,” he murmurs with a small, pleased smile. “Shall we continue?”

The brush goes into the melted chocolate next. And when you expect him to paint your body again, he instead lifts his apron and pushes it aside, exposing his highly aroused cock to your eager eyes. The brush paints a thick line of glistening white chocolate over turgid flesh, coats the swollen head thoroughly. And when he finishes he simply stands there. Waiting. And you realize suddenly what it is he wants.

A flutter of nerves touches you as you slowly shift to your side, bringing your face in closer proximity to his erection. His tip is only millimeters away and you imagine you can feel the heat of him against your lips. Your tongue flicks out to touch him, licks delicately at his tip, and the taste of salt and musk mingled with the sweet chocolate excites you. Then his hips push forward to slowly, carefully push his head into your mouth, and you take him eagerly and suck the sweetness from his skin.

A low groan erupts from his throat as his hands thread into your hair. “Ahh, _yes_ , Imouto-chan. Just like that,” he pants, eyes lidded with carnal lust. “Let your brother teach you how to pleasure a man…” 

He pushes even further into your mouth, pulls out, thrusts back in. Slowly, carefully, murmuring instruction and encouragement. You follow each order, mindful of your teeth against his sensitive skin. He pulls out long enough to recoat his penis with the chocolate and you welcome his return with an eager mouth, sucking and licking. You let your teeth drag lightly over his length and he groans loudly, spasming in your mouth. The taste of musk grows stronger.

He coats himself again, and yet again, and each time he returns you take him a little deeper, getting used to the size of him in your mouth. Deep enough that his balls nearly touch your chin by the time the pot has been depleted and you’re feeling rather full. So you pull back to suckle the last of the chocolate from his tip, stroking his stiff, wet shaft with soft hands. Your tongue probes hard at his weeping slit, the salt-and-musk flavor overpowering the faded sweetness, and his head falls back and his chest heaves as he finally rips the apron from his shivering, sweating body.

His face is a mask of tortured ecstasy and his naked flesh gleams in the light, muscles tensed with arousal barely held in check, chest heaving as he gasps for breath. He voices his pleasure with long, low groans and, from the upper foyer overlooking the common area, you think you hear a sudden noise over his voice. A soft, choked-off cry. But Ukyō’s thrusting hips block your view and you’re rather too focused on pleasuring him to let it distract you for long. You’re a quick learner and watching Ukyō quickly fall apart under your lips and tongue soon has you squirming with renewed arousal, shifting onto your knees with legs parted in clear invitation.

Ukyō realizes what you want because with a low cry he pulls himself from your sucking mouth and pushes you onto your back, spreads your legs wide to thrust his slick cock deep into your wet passage. You keen in delight as he fills you, thick and warm and hard. Your hips push into his, demanding, and he falls over you, catches your mouth in a deep kiss as he sets a fast pace, pumping frantically as he seeks to bring you both to completion. 

You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Cling to him as he rides you, gyrating against his body to match his eager thrusts. And over his shoulder, you finally get a clear view of the upper foyer and startle to realize that someone is really _there_ , looking down on you over the railing as Ukyō fucks you hard. He’d switched on a lamp and orange hair and wide, purple eyes make you gasp in shock. 

What in the world is _Natsume_ doing here? 

Out of everyone who could have appeared, he’s the _last_ person you would have expected, especially in the middle of the night. Had he stopped by earlier to visit? Or had he only just arrived? Not that it matters, either way. He’s here and you’ve been thoroughly caught—yet _again_ —in the midst of sensual, erotic love play with one of your brothers. On the dining table, no less!

Natsume’s face is both tense and expressionless, jaw working as he stares down at you and for a moment you fear he’s angry … until you realize that, while one hand grasps the railing in a white-knuckled grip, the other is between his legs, rubbing himself hard, squeezing and kneading his aroused cock that strains at the seams of his pants. His mouth parts as he draws in a deep, ragged breath and his hips pump in short, hard jerks as he watches Ukyō’s cock pumping in and out of your body. He can probably see _everything_ from up there. And you’re just starting to wonder if this is about to be a repeat of the Rooftop Incident when Ukyō shifts position, just enough so that his cock drags _hard_ over your swollen, throbbing clit and the resulting explosion of pleasure makes you wail in ecstasy as your climax crashes over you. He shouts as his release quickly follows and his cock spasms and jerks as he spills his seed deep inside your body.

He collapses over your exhausted form, shivering from the intensity of his release as he pants heavily. You cling to him for a few more moments, waiting for your senses to stop reeling, before letting your arms and legs fall away so he can pull out of your body. His mouth seeks and find yours to press tender kisses to your lips and you can taste yourself as he whispers endearments and thanks for the incredible gift you’d just given him.

The air smells of expensive cologne, of chocolate and fruit and pure, unadulterated _sex_. It’s a heady combination that you think you could easily become addicted to, just as much as the feel of a man’s lips on your breasts, or his cock filling your body… 

You dare to look at the upper foyer again, wondering if Natsume had finished as well, only to find that he’d disappeared, as silent as a ghost. 

Only the lamp still burning on the side table lets you know he had ever been there.

**Author's Note:**

> So, just a quick question. Can anyone direct me to a decent description or map of the Sunrise Residence? My Google-fu skills are failing me. There is sadly very little information to be found and even less in the way of pictures. I did find a layout but as it’s all written in Japanese I can’t make heads or tails of it, anyway.
> 
> I know the locations of the common area and which bedrooms (apartments?) are on which floors, but other than that, I’m lost. Are their rooms just one large living space, or do they have their own bathrooms? I THINK they have that little doorway in the entrance where you leave your shoes and such. Aside from that, I’m lost.
> 
> Like, where are the rooms located in approximation to each other on each floor (it’s something coming up in the next story so it’d be good to know). Also, what is the exact layout of the common area? I’m mostly guessing at this point. 
> 
> It probably doesn’t even matter but I like to be as accurate as possible to the series, so if anyone could shed some light on this if possible, by all means do!
> 
> (And while I’m at it, if someone could maybe direct me to like an English-translated version of the manga/novels, if such a thing exists, I’d love you for life!)


End file.
